My first memories of my grandmother are of her jet black hair,her huge smile, and her dark eyes. Her name was a- qua- tseTsa- la- gi lie- lid- is. She was full of contradictions: She laugheda lot, worked hard, played hard, and had definite ideas of what afamily should be. She had an opinion that was always right. Shewas protective of me, the first grandchild and firstgranddaughter, and started me down the road of the traditionallearning and healing ways of the Cherokee people.

I remember the first time that my grandmother took me hunting for herbs and medicines in the woods. She was short (4'2"), but when asked, she would always say, "Four feet, two and a half inches — and 100 pounds of pure love." She was Cherokee and a healer of our tribe. Everyone called her Maggie. I was a thin little girl of six following behind her — dragging a basket, spade, and woven bag.

As we walked in the woods she always told me stories while teaching me the healing ways. One dayshe would say, "We are from the Wolf Clan, a strong clan, one that is to be proud of — do notdisrespect our family name." Then she would say, "Dig here. That root is good for stopping bleedingin childbirth," and I would start digging in the hard, red clay of Pawhuska, OK, for that root.

I learned much of our language from my grandmother and her mother; I am now relearning thelanguage that I have forgotten since she died. I also learned how to mix herbs and barks and plantsto bring down fevers (ka na sit a — dogwood); help upset stomachs (sa li, gu gu ga nu lv, da (ga) si a las de na — peppermint, tickweed, terrapin's foot); arthritis (u did le hv s gi I lv s gi — feverfew);liver ailments (go s du I (tlv) gv — ash tree); and a variety of other ailments.

Her kitchen was always littered with hanging plants and bags of various dried barks and plants. Itsmelled spicy, woodsy, and wonderful. Often, as she boiled a remedy, she would ask me to bring thisplant or that plant to her, and she would indicate how the remedy should be applied and how itworked.

She also taught me many traditional stories of the Cherokee. I remember sitting at her feet raptlylistening to her strong voice flow over me with the images of the characters of coyote, rabbit,turtle, and grandmother spider dancing in my head. The stories still stir in my mind as the wordsturn to real images, and I can feel again the soft summer's wind in my hair and smell the barks andplants on her hands as she gestured.